Time to Retire?

Andy Roddick decided yesterday, on his 30th birthday,  to retire after the U.S. Open.  He is slated to play in the second round tonight.  Without Andy, there will be no American men in the top tier of tennis.  That doesn't stop us from loving Federer, Nadal, and Djokovik, but still . . .

Andy joins a group of great players with whom I totally identify and hold in high regard:  those who were great but not as great as those who fate determined were their rivals.  I'm thinking of Karl Malone, Charles Barkley, and maybe even Derrick Rose.

Speaking of retirement, I am maddened by the phone call I had with Elsa yesterday.  The story was in the news so maybe you are aware of it.  A 100 year old man, driving his car (!), plowed into some parents and school children.  This was at Natalie's school!  No 100 year old person should be driving a car.  

And, speaking of oldsters, Clint Eastwood just made me feel sad.  He has made some really good films (who can forget Million Dollar Baby?).  He came across as a jerk.

Fit or Fat?

Since I'm a sports fan, I'm familiar with the hardnose fitness program, P90X, that Paul Ryan credits for his "six pack abs" and generally great bod.  For Paul, it's very disciplined:  Ayn Rand for the mind, and Tony Horton for the physique.

Chris Christie, on the other hand, is large.  Very large.  With the personality to match.  Words like "steamrolled" and "overwhelmed" come to mind.  I guess "bully" depends on your politics.

Both men are positioning themselves for next time.  In wrestling they have weight class.  Nothing like that in politics.  So, who is going to be best at pushing the rest of us around?

Keep Searching

I just saw the documentary "Searching for Sugarman."  I'm not going to tell you much about it except that you will love that you saw it.  I guarantee it.  The best thought that came to mind is:  "This story makes me want to keep going until the end."

The Eternal Enemy

Why is it that we're still fighting the "Adam and Eve" Wars?  The latest assault on womens' health in the presidential campaign goes further than even the anti-abortion rants that, sadly, like mass shootings, have become "normal" background noise.

And apparently people are still in a twit about Hillery.  Still asking her about her hair style and what designers she wears.  (Michelle seems to like all that.  Oh, well.)

Bill wrote today about the card game I played as a child: "Old Maid."  I bet you remember it too.  But Bill, the uber-collector, actually had some decks to break open for Natalie.

The idea of the game is to get rid of the "Old Maid" by passing the card out of your hand to another player.  No Social Security for her.  Or Medicare.  No Old Maids in the winning hand.

Cave Man Summer

Maybe it's the heat.  This has been a "nature is making a big statement" summer.  And, two experiences that I can't stop thinking about play on that theme.  One is the film Beasts of the Southern Wild.  The other is the thrill of Usain Bolt.

First, let's talk about Bolt, since we're still in the glow of his run last night.  The 100 and 200 meter races are as pure as you can get.  No equipment.  You don't really need a track, it could take place anywhere.  Is there anything more timeless than winning a foot race?  It's as if the drawings on the cave walls come to life and we are visited by what must have happened thousands of years ago.. . and is happening now.

Beasts plays the same way.  Stripped down.  Immediate. Pure.  Timeless.

Both experiences are hot . . . hot . . . hot.

Olympics in Space

There's been a lot of cheering going on this week.  I love cheering.  Bolt is the most audacious athlete since Ali.  That quirky Opening Ceremony featured "national health care."  Strange but welcome.   My favorite cheering moment this week is the successful landing on Mars of the Curiosity space explorer.

The cliche is that if Earth was ever threatened by invaders from space, we would all band together to fight them off.  I'm not sure.  But, I sure liked watching all of those NASA geeks high fiving each other when the little rover landed intact.  (Minor quibble:  why do they all have to wear those Walmart greeter type T-shirts?  Ugh!)

I still keep the images from the Hubble space telescope in my computer and gazed at them from time to time.  (Perspective is everything.)

Go Mars!

The Real Housewives of London

For the Olympics,  TV contracts own the gold.  When there were only a few sources for updates, delaying the events made sense.  Even then, I wished there had been one channel where you could watch live if you wanted.  My friend Doreen and I were probably the only two who got up in the middle of the night to watch the Australian Open.  It was fun.

Messing with the ongoing drama is another thing.  Apparently, NBC decided not to show how the Russian gymnast fell, thus  the Russians had no chance of winning.   The announcers knew it.  We did not.  Why ruin the suspense?  When the Olympics, the ultimate reality show, becomes just another made-for-TV drama, why ruin it indeed.

Of course, I'm still bummed that because of TV contracts we never get daytime World Series games.  Remember when the sun bounced off the bunting?  Remember when kids could go to a BIG game?  I went to one and I still remember.